


Meet Me Where We Used to Play

by rayneworld



Series: Another Day AU [4]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV Second Person, again because homestuck owns my ass, these girls need a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayneworld/pseuds/rayneworld
Summary: Charlie meets Elizabeth down the road at a playground they spent their childhood at. They hang out, reminisce about the past, and Elizabeth flirts with Charlie, while Charlie is completely oblivious. Or, Charlie has bad anxiety, the two of them are angsty about their circumstances, and how they got from Point A at the Pizzeria Sim, to Point B here is because *Todd Howard voice* it just works.





	Meet Me Where We Used to Play

**Author's Note:**

> To clear up confusion, in my AU the animatronics didn't get burned during the Pizzeria Sim, and are now humans. I don't have a plot for how this happens, but I wanted to work with everyone's characters, relationships, and recovery without erasing everything that happened to them by having it be in an "Everybody Lives" type AU. I'm sorry if that's a bit world breaking, but hopefully it turns out okay ;u;

You stand in the cool night air, darkness surrounding you. You keep away from the glowing streetlights that litter the park, creating bubbles of safety from the shadows, fearing capturing any undesired attention. There’s a slight breeze that chills you, but otherwise the temperature isn’t too bad. The past few days have been warm, but you’re sure that you’ll get snow again before spring breaks.

Your heart races and you’re afraid to move forwards towards the mulch barrier containing the playground. Around noon today you found a note slid under the counter at your prize corner. You’d just gotten back from lunch and hadn’t seen who put it there. It was placed strategically so only you would find it - you’re the only person who regularly looks around those shelves.

It’s a simple half sheet of paper, torn unevenly as if the writer was in a hurry. Despite this, the handwriting is neat and bubbly, written in red pen. The words, “Meet me at the tunnel where I cut glitter glue out of your hair. 8:00 PM. <3” are composed.

 _It’s Elizabeth_ , you thought, _it has to be_. That’s your private memory you’ve only shared with her. Of course, your dad knows about it, since you came home with a chunk of your hair missing, and he gave you a proper haircut afterwards. Your pretty sure that William would know about it as well, since he always seemed to know what his daughter was up to.

 _What if it’s a trap and he’s trying to lure you out here?_ Was your second thought. It would work, obviously, since you showed. You came here knowing full-well that this was a risk. But he’d have to go through a hell of a lot of effort to pull it off. _No, it’s Elizabeth_ , you go back, _he couldn’t mimic her handwriting like that. Everything else he could get away with, but that’s too much._ He would have sent you a text from her number instead, covering that bit of evidence. It’s Elizabeth. It has to be.

The tunnel the message is referring to is, in fact, was not a tunnel like one a car would pass through, but a plastic green tube running through the playground down the street from you. You, Elizabeth, Sammy, and Michael would often come to this playground to hang out. Sometimes your older brother Jamie would come too, but those times were less fun, since he’d just chase Sammy around and convince Michael to help him. You, Sammy, and Elizabeth would end up hiding most of the day, not because you and she wanted to, but because Sammy did and you refused to leave him, and Elizabeth refused to leave you.

 _He_ wouldn’t know about that. Well, maybe he would, since he wasn’t neglectful enough to not pay attention to where his kids were (most the time). But it couldn’t be him. You’re not sure what you would do if it was. You can run - you’re very good at that - but suppose he snuck up on you? You lean further into the shadows, afraid of being spotted. You just have to wait and see. Wait for Elizabeth to show up... or not.

You’re early, it’s fifteen till, but the note left you with pent up energy. You haven’t hung out with Elizabeth in weeks and have hardly seen her around the pizzeria. Your dads are fighting right now - and reasonably so. Your dad has been quick to jump at William for so much as glancing in you or Sammy’s direction, and honestly it makes you feel safe. You’re glad he’s here for you _now_ , trying to protect you the best he can. The problem is, he and William still co-own Freddy’s, and Elizabeth and Michael still live with their father. He doesn’t want you or your siblings near William, and you know William wants to keep his kids away from you to prevent them from getting ideas about leaving him. So you’ve been assigned conflicting shifts so you won’t be in the Pizzeria at the same time, or if you are, Aftons are in the back and Emilys in the front, or vise versa. A silent ban has been placed, preventing your families from interacting.

You want to scream, scream at them to get away from him, that he’ll just continue to hurt them, but it wouldn’t do anything. They know this, yet they can’t pry themselves away from _him_ , away from their _family_ . But _you_ could be their family! Your dad would gladly take them in. But _him_ . You’re not quite sure what he’d do if both his kids left him, but you’re positive he’d strike out and hurt someone. You’re not sure if it would be your family, his family, or some unlucky bystander, but you _know_ people would get hurt.

And to be fair… he hasn’t _done_ anything yet. He doesn’t show remorse for what he did, or seem to want to better his actions, but he’s not.... _continuing_ his bad ones, or backtracking. Ever since the four of you - if you can count Molten Freddy as just one - almost got burned alive in the fake pizzeria, he’s been… okay. You’re not sure if he’s acting like this because he knows he’s backed into a corner or not. His kids could have easily broken off from him then, but, he _apologized_ , so they didn’t. And you’re not sure if it was genuine, but to them it was. He promised things would be different. Like hell they will be - he’s played this game before - he’s running out of tricks. You know what he did. Not just to you and your friends - but to his _kids_. You know he physically and emotionally abused them. But he… hasn’t continued. He’s kept true so far. That you know of! He could be hurting them again, and you’d have no idea- you’d-

You need to ask Elizabeth when she gets here. If she gets here. What if she got caught trying to come visit you? She- no, you need to have more faith in her than that. Elizabeth doesn’t get caught, she can be as deceptive as her father and lie her way out of situations just as well as he can. And… Elizabeth won’t want to talk about her dad if - when - she shows up. She hates talking about him because she doesn’t know how she feels about him. Michael, having been “spared” from a violent death to his dad or his machines (till he was older) had time to grow and reflect on things. He doesn’t like his dad, he knows this. But he feels obligated to him, just a bit, and that’s enough to throw him off. And there’s no way he could leave Elizabeth, who’s still under his influence, alone with him.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts - do you ever stop thinking? You’ve been thinking about this all day! You wish your brain would shut up, that you could stop being so anxious about this. It’s not necessarily a bad anxious though - you’re excited to see Elizabeth again, granted she shows. You _really_ want to see her again, it feels way longer than it has been, like you’ve been stuck in a warehouse again with the Toys, years slowly ticking by till you don’t have a sense of time anymore. And... she left a cute, curvy heart at the end of her note.

Why’d she do that? Your stomach feels upset. Does she- no, that’s just an Elizabeth thing, she’s always flashy and cutesy like that. There’s no way she would - could - think of you as more than a friend? You can’t even bring yourself to _think_ of-

It’s just a heart - it’s just a heart. It doesn’t mean anything, stop thinking so much. It doesn’t matter, she’s just your friend - your best friend - and you don’t want to ruin that. She’d… probably be uncomfortable around you if she knew you had feelings for her. You’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and she’s been okay with that. You’ve told her things you haven’t told anyone - not even Sammy (even though, you suppose, you didn’t have Sammy around for some of those times.) Your ashamed of yourself for taking everything you have and wanting _more_ -

Your drawn back into the darkness, backed up so you’re almost touching the hedges along the chain link fence, separating the rest of the park from the nearby pool. What time is it? Didn’t you just check your phone? It doesn’t matter - you do it again, the light briefly illuminating your face. You switch it back off as soon as you see that it’s 7:48. It feels like you’ve been standing here for hours, but it’s only been three minutes.

What part of the park does she want to meet you at? The playground, obviously, but what side? The tunnel system you used to play in is long gone, torn down and revamped, replaced with new royal blue equipment instead of the dark green themed. What if she’s staying just out of view, waiting for you to come? What if she comes and waits for you and you miss her? You’re too scared to text her - you haven’t in weeks. Her dad checks her and Michael’s phones. You’d be putting her in danger doing that. It’s still more than ten minutes till she’s supposed to be here, but you’re already worrying about missing her.

And then you spot her, silently moving out of the shadows into the light surrounding jungle gym. She’s wearing a frilly red coat and blue jeans, along with a checkered grey and pink beanie hat and a matching scarf. On her feet are a dirty pair of rose colored sneakers. Seeing someone else in the night is surreal, especially because it’s _her_ , and you suddenly feel like you’re caught in a dream. She moves almost like a phantom, and you feel like the darkness should be following her.

But it doesn’t, and it’s just her, undeniably real and there. And you want to sprint out to greet her, but feel like that would be too improper, too _desperate_ . What if she doesn’t even want to see you? Maybe she’s meeting with you to tell you that she thinks her dad is right and she can’t stand seeing you around; that you’ve only been a negative influence on her life and held her back. You stomach flips. She wouldn’t think that, would she? You almost start trembling at the thought. She wouldn’t hate you, would she? She has before, and there’s nothing stopping her from hating you now. You can’t _stand_ the thought of her never wanting to see you again, and you don’t know why. The wall of anxiety that’s been building up hits you. Your throat tightens, and you’re frozen in place.

But you being paralyzed doesn’t stop Elizabeth from moving on slowly through the playground, scanning around as she goes, searching. Eventually she stops and does one last quick sweep around, before deciding to sit on the swings, feet suspended, idly rocking back and forth on it. She stares off and fidgets with her hands, like she nervous about something. Suppose she didn’t come to see you at all, but to warn you about something? Could something have happened? She pulls out her phone, and you see her fingers moving over it, but not necessarily doing anything. She’s just killing time, or pretending to be busy to anyone looking in, or maybe trying to preoccupy herself. You do the same thing often.

You find yourself able to move again, though your heart is still racing. You need to go see her, you feel creepy just watching her. It’s safe, you’ve determined that already, you’re just scared of the unknown possibilities. Nothing about talking is safe - you can’t even hope to predict how any conversation with her will go. You begin to move slowly, trying to remain calm, trying to act like yourself, but being painfully aware of every movement you make. You feel like you’re trying desperately not to trip, but the anxiety of it causes you to trip anyways, and you would've been better off had you not thought of it at all. Had you just been yourself, everything would’ve gone smoothly. But now that the thought is in your head it won’t leave, and you can’t do anything naturally. You’re dooming yourself to mess everything up before it even happens.

But you do not trip, and you continue to approach her, stepping out of the darkness and into the soft mulch that sinks ever so slightly under your shoes. Should you call out to her? Should you just keep going till she sees you? What if she doesn’t see you till you’re right next to her and you startle her?

Before you can make up your mind, she glances up from her phone, scanning the grounds again till she sees you. Her face instantly lights up. Her eyes brighten and her lips curve into a smile. Any doubts you had instantly melt away. In one motion she gets up and slides her phone into her pocket, walking over to you. You’re smiling and the ground between you leaves instantly as she rushes over and pulls you into a big hug.

“Charlie, I missed you so much,” she blurts.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around you, her face resting on your shoulder. You find yourself on the balls of your feet, burrowing your fingers into the back of her coat and pressing your face into her jacket. Her warmth surrounds you and you feel joy well up inside you. She doesn’t hate you, she isn’t angry, she’s here, and she’s even happy to see you!

“I missed you too,” you murmur.

And just like that, the hug is over. You think, maybe, that it lasted longer than it should’ve, but it felt too quick anyways. Even though you parted, Liz still keeps a hand on your shoulder.

“You look good,” she says, then stumbles, “you know, not being in Lefty and all.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” you shrug your shoulders nervously.

You owe William of all people for getting you out of Lefty. You’re… at the center of why your dads are fighting, you suppose. They would’ve ended up quarreling anyways, but you jump-started it. Lefty was built in a rush by your father and was made sloppily, and in capturing you, was meant to never open again. You were stuck and your soul was in pain. Though it seemed like an impossible task, William got you out of Lefty with minimal harm. But it left you super weak. And your dad couldn’t handle the stress of the operation and got hysterical during it. William forced him out of the room, Michael reluctantly agreeing with him. Healing in the infamous Afton family laboratory-basement was the last time you hung out with Elizabeth.

“I’m glad! I’m really glad you’re better. I hated seeing you in pain like that. I mean, I’m sure you hated feeling like that more, but still.” Elizabeth is talking fast, fumbling for words. You’re not sure why she is - it’s not like her. Did something happen? Or maybe she’s just not sure how to greet you after everything?

“Yeah! It’s really nice seeing you again,” you say, “I like your outfit.”

“You too! You look super cute,” she replies and your heart skips.

“Oh! I just, threw this on,” you say, gesturing to your sweater. It’s a gradient of black up to white sleeves in several stripes. The rest of your outfit is torn blue jeans and your signature black combat boots. You…  may or may not have attempted to dress cute to try to impress her. You usually don’t care what other people think of you, but you _do_ care what she thinks.

“Tch, doesn’t matter, I still like it,” she says. Then she stomps her foot and says, “God, I know we just went over this but I missed you so much. I can’t believe our piss dads won’t let us hang out just because they’re fighting.”

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” you agree. You don’t say more on that, because you don’t want to mention William if Elizabeth doesn’t want to. Her stance on him is still shaky. “We work at the same place, you can’t just not let us see each other?”

“It’s like an awful forbidden romance movie,” Elizabeth laughs.

You laugh too, lightly punching her arm, “yeah, except we’re not dating,” you remind.

Elizabeth opens her mouth, then closes it, before opening it again and asking, “how have you been? I can’t even ask you that at the pizzeria. How dumb.” You notice that she changed the topic quickly, then tried to make it tie back in. Should you not have said that? What if- no.

“I mean, I’ve been okay. Same as always, I guess,” you say, “I miss hanging out with you and Michael though. I miss the four of us going out places.” The fourth person you’re referring to your twin.

“Me too. That’s kind of what I came here to talk to you about. Wanna sit on the swings?” You nod and Elizabeth grabs your hand and leads you over to them. She continues, “Michael and I were talking. And this seems really dumb and petty, but do you want to have, like, secret hang outs? _God that sounds so childish_.” You sit on the swings.

You laugh, “no, it’s fine, I get it. I really want to start seeing you again.”

“Yeah. Well, what I mean is, we’ll keep an eye out and start messaging you guys again. Let us text you so we can delete the messages in case Dad checks our phones.”

You wince. That’s such a breach of privacy. Maybe you could excuse it if you were younger, but… you’re adults now (even if you're young adults - Elizabeth is 18, you and Sammy are 19, and Michael is 21.) You want to say that her dad keeping such close tabs on them is a sign of his abuse, but you hold your tongue. But that doesn’t stop Elizabeth from seeing your expression.

“Yeah, I know that sounds bad, but it’s really not. Mike and I know how to hide things.” She doesn’t sound confident.

“You shouldn’t have to though,” you whisper.

Elizabeth pauses, and looks down at her feet, burying her shoes in the mulch. “Well, we just have to deal with it for now.”

You _have_ to ask, have to ask if he’s hurting them, but you can’t make yourself. You have to know, but the question is _so_ risky. Would Elizabeth tell you if he started hitting her again? What about Michael? You could… try looking for evidence, but that’s hard to do without making it obvious. You’d hate it if someone did that to you, so you won’t do that. You’ll keep an eye out though.

“Anyways, we can start planning hang outs like that. Try not to talk to us through text much besides that. Let’s go out of town, though - well, just nowhere too close, or where my dad would be doing work. I mean, we can always play it off like we bumped into you and Sammy at the same place, but that’s still super sketchy. But Mikey and I know how to deter any suspicion. Just, you know, don’t mention it to anyone at the pizzeria who you think can’t keep their mouths shut.”

“So, don’t tell the Toys or Funtimes, got it,” you snicker.

“Okay, I didn’t want to call them out,” Elizabeth jokes.

“Well, besides Ballora, she’s good at keeping quiet. She’s like, the only Funtime that isn’t absolutely obnoxious,” you say and pretend to study your fingers.

It takes a second for Elizabeth to process what you said, but then she shouts, “HEY” and punches you in the arm.

You laugh and reach a hand out to bat at her and say, “you know I’m joking.”

“I know, I know. Anyways, Mike knows I came here to see you, so he’s covering for me. I doubt my dad will ask where I went anyways, but just in case. So, consider this hang out number one. I take it you got my note?”

“Yeah!” You almost forgot about it. You pull it out of your pants pocket. “Nicely placed. It was cute,” you say studying the folded piece of paper.

“Oh my god, you brought it,” Elizabeth laughs, “that’s so dorky and adorable.”

You blush deeply and drop your head down. You quickly start putting it back. God, that was so stupid of you, that’s really embarrassing, why’d you do that? There was no reason to bring it, there-

“No, no!” Elizabeth reaches out and tries to stop you from putting it away, still giggling, “Charlie, I just thought it was cute, I’m not making fun of you.”

You still can’t make yourself look at her, but you shrug your shoulders and just say: “alright.”

“Seriously, Charlie,” she says playfully and lightly grabs your wrists. Doing this causes the swings to twist and both of you swing back and forth. “Look at me - I’m not trying to embarrass you. You’re just really sweet.”

Cheeks pink, you want to hide your face from her more than before. You believe she didn’t mean anything bad by it, but you can’t swallow the fact that she thinks it was cute or sweet or whatever - not because it’s her, you just don’t believe _anyone_ who says positive things about you. But you take an audible breath and dare to look up at her anyways.

And the _honesty_ in her eyes makes you want to reel back. You _hate_ when she does this. She’s done this before - made you look at her when she’s saying things you don’t believe. And it scares you because it works. But you feel like you’re fighting yourself to believe her, fighting for an answer - _any_ answer, no matter how illogical - as to why she would be saying this and looking at you like that, that’s not simply, “she genuinely likes you.” Part of you can’t accept that her - or anyone - does.

“Okay,” you say again, more certainty to your voice, though you struggle to keep eye contact.

“Okay,” Elizabeth says pleased. Then smirks, quoting “maybe okay will be our al-”

“NO,” you cut her off and pull your hands back. The swing pulls backwards and you stick your legs out to carefully kick at her. “Don’t you dare finish that, that’s so cheesy and bad,” you laugh.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she laughs with you. “Do you remember when I cut your hair when we were little?” She kicks back at you, and your swings go haywire and spin crookedly.

“Um, yes? Or I wouldn’t have come here?”

“Okay, shut up, I just meant it was funny.”

“You ruined my hair,” you exaggerate.

Elizabeth digs her shoes into the ground to stop her spinning, then rotates herself around, making the chains of the swing cross each other over and over again. “I did not! It was fine.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why my dad had to give me a real haircut afterwards.”

“Please, I didn’t mean to.”

“Pretty sure you meant to. You were like ‘oh, don’t worry, I saw the salon people do this last week, I can cut the glue out of your hair,’” you tease in a high pitched voice.

“I’m like, almost certain I didn’t say that or sound like that. But I didn’t mean to get glitter glue in your hair,” she says and lifts her feet. The instant she does the swing starts spiraling, trying to free itself from the knots, and Elizabeth flies with it, red hair swirling.

You laugh, “it’s okay, I wasn’t mad. And my haircut matched Sammy’s after! So we thought that was fun.”

Elizabeth, still spinning, shouts, “I wanted to check if our glitter glue graffiti was still in the tunnels, but I realized they aren’t here anymore.” The swing finishes untangling, but carries the momentum and begins twisting the other way. “I should’ve realized they weren’t here, this park is like right down the street from me, but I didn’t. It probably wouldn't be there anyways, but still.”

“I didn’t realize it got renovated either,” you admit, “the T. rex slide is gone.”

The swing begins slowing, and Elizabeth pauses, looking over the playground. “Oh my god, I forgot about the t-rex slide. Why the hell did they get rid of it?”

“Probably because it’s been decades?” you chuckle.

“WHATEVER, that thing rocked. Should’ve just fixed it up, or made a new one,” she leans back now, holding onto the chains. Her hat falls off and her hair touches the mulch. “I’m going to throw up,” she says casually, like she was just carrying on the conversation.

“What? Are you okay??” You ask, leaning over towards her.

She has her eyes closed and stays suspended on the swing.

“Liz!”

“Yeah, I’m good, just give me a second,” she says then slowly rises back into a sitting position. “I just spun too fast.”

“Or too much.”

“Whatever,” she says getting up and picking her hat up from the ground. She shakes the wood chips off of it. “I’m sick of the swings - quite literally - do you want to go sit on the monkey bars like we used to?”

“So you can hang upside-down on those and make yourself sick there too?” you tut.

“Okay, leave me alone,” Elizabeth jokes, “I won’t do that. Well, maybe I would, but now I won’t.”

You laugh, “whatever you want to do. I’d rather not have you get sick on every part of this playground but, like, that’d be interesting I guess.”

She grabs you hands and pulls you up from the swing, “let’s lay in the tunnel slide, then! I mean, if you’re chill with that.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Cool,” she says. This time you walk next to her, holding her hand, instead of her dragging you along behind her. You love her hand in yours, and you wish you could walk around like this more often. Friends can hold hands, right? There’s nothing weird about that? You look over to her.

“You got wood chips in your hair,” you say and take your hand back for a quick second to brush them out.

“Oh, oops.”

“I got it.”

“Thanks.”

You slip your hand back into hers and proceed. The slide curves out at the bottom, which is the only part not covered in blue plastic. It’s not very big compared to what you remember, but you don’t know if it’s because they remodeled it or because you’re bigger now. Elizabeth crawls up into the slide and you follow. It’s dark in the tube, but there’s still enough light from the street lamps outside to make out each other’s silhouettes. You both lay on your backs with feet sticking into the open and eyes shielded from the rest of the playground. There’s not much room for the two of you and you’re squished against each other, but you don’t mind. You enjoy being so close to her, and you want to cuddle with her. Your wish is partially granted, as Elizabeth grabs your hand and your arms lay between the two of you. You snuggle into her shoulder and she tilts her head to rest on yours.

“Remember when we fell asleep in the twisty tunnels, and our dads got mad at us?” Elizabeth asks.

“Yeah. They were worried because it was like a hundred goddamn degrees in there.”

“ _Your_ dad was worried,” Elizabeth comments, and it throws you off.

“Yours wasn’t?” you ask softly.

There’s a pause before she replies, “I don’t know.”

You squeeze her hand.

“He just. Didn’t act like Henry did when they found us. Henry yelled, but you could tell he was really worried. But my dad was so cold and silent, and I was scared to go back to the house with him.”

You swallow. “Did it end up being okay?” you ask.

She’s silent for a long time before replying quietly, “not really.”

You twist your body to face her and wrap your arms around her. She hugs you back, though not as tightly, but rubs her hands idly up and down your back. “I should’ve known something was wrong,” you say.

She sighs, a bit irritably, like she’s said this a thousand times, “no, you were a kid, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t mean to make things depressing. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Alright,” you whisper very softly, letting your hands comb through her curly hair, “I just worry about you.”

“I know. But I’m okay, please don’t.”

“Just… please let me know if anything is happening,” you ask shakily, daring to say what you’ve been thinking. “If anything like that starts happening again, please tell me. I want to help you. I really care about you, Elizabeth. You mean so much to me. _Please_.”

She’s quiet for a minute before letting out a deep breath and saying, “okay. Alright, I will.” She loosens up from your grip to look at you. You can tell she’s trying - trying to be honest. You’re not sure the full truth is there, or if she would be able to make herself tell you, but you can tell from her eyes that she’s going to _try_. She reaches a hand towards your face and brushes a strand of your hair out of the way. “I care about you too, Charlie.” Your heart jumps. She does, she does care about you! You know it doesn’t mean anything, but warmth still runs through you at her words.

But then she asks, seriously, softly, “have _you_ been okay?” And the warmth immediately vanishes, leaving you ice cold. You instantly tense and glance down to avoid her eyes. You know what she means, but you want to avoid it, to respond just to the simple question she asked, to evade the real one lying underneath. Elizabeth cups her hand to your cheek. “Please? You can talk to me too.”

You take your hands back from her, and want to fidget with them, but you can’t, there’s not enough space between the two of you. Instead, you shift positions, like you’re trying to get comfortable, though you’re clearly just uncomfortable with the words hanging in the air, not your physical position.

You can’t lie to her. She can see through any lies you spill, no matter how short or insignificant they are. When you’ve straight up lied to her about this in the past, she’s gotten so pissy with you, and you don’t blame her. It hurts her that you can’t be honest with her. And you realize you’re being hypocritical asking her to tell you about her abuse when you can’t even speak about your own issues. But her problems are so much more serious! She can’t control what happens to her - you can. Yours are self inflicted, while hers are inflicted upon her. She can usually tell when you’re not telling the _full_ truth, but it’s not as bad, so that’s what you’re going to have to go with for now.

“I’ve… been worse,” you say slowly, carefully, tugging at the ends of your sleeves.

She lets out a “hmmm,” before studying your face. You can’t make yourself look up at her. Shame burns in you. She slowly leans her head towards yours and rests her forehead on your own, closing her eyes.

“You can talk to me, Charlie,” she whispers delicately. You involuntarily take a deep, shaky breath. Your hands are trembling.

“Talking about it hurts you,” you say in a small voice, eyes closed.

“I’d rather know about it than not. It hurts more to not to know. Doesn’t talking about it help at all?”

You want to snap, “you tell me!” Since she rarely speaks to you about what happened to her, but you don’t, because that’d be so unfair of you. She’s been really patient with you asking questions, you need to return the courtesy.

Instead, you say, “maybe, a little bit, but it’s not worth dragging you down with me.”

“You’re not dragging me down! If you want me to talk to you, why can’t you talk to me?”

And that’s everything you’ve been thinking. She won’t talk to you and you won’t talk to her. Talking is _so_ hard, it hurts too much. Not physically, like how you’d often lose your voice as Lefty, but emotionally it’s almost too much to bare. To speak to someone else about every rancid thought that’s ever eaten away at you is reliving it as it comes up your throat.

“I want to, Liz, it’s just so hard.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“I _know_ ! I know, _I know_. I’m being hypocritical. I’m being unfair,” you whine.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” she soothes, “I don’t want to make you upset. I just want to help you. You really mean a lot to me, ya know?”

You sigh, “I don’t even know what to talk about. There’s nothing to say.”

Elizabeth shuffles, then asks nervously, like she knows the weight her words will carry, “why do you do it?” It catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?” you ask. Does she… really not get it?

“Why do you cut? To… feel better, obviously, or you wouldn’t, but - why specifically? If you’re… if you’re comfortable answering,” her voice is unsteady, like she’s been dying to ask you, been going over it in her head, but still has no idea how. She’s afraid of how you’ll react.

“I- I mean- yeah, that, to feel better,” you want her to understand, so you’ll answer for her, but you can’t get your words to flow quite right. “But also because… I don’t know? It’s a lot of things. It calms me down. That sounds… stupid, but it does.”

“No, that’s not stupid,” Elizabeth says, carefully petting your hair. She wants to touch you, to calm you, but only does so softly, hesitantly, unsure if you’ll be okay with the physical contact. You don’t know yourself. Your stomach is upset. The words you say feel putrid, and forcing them out your throat is making your mouth sour.

“Mmm. Just, when I’m angry, I just take it out on myself? I don’t get mad at other people - just me. And... this is really messed up,” you laugh quickly, nervously, “but I like the way it looks? I know… I know that’s awful...” you trail off. You can’t say anymore. You’re so tense, so uncomfortable, like your words have built a vile nest around you and you’ve trapped Elizabeth inside with you.

Elizabeth reaches a hand down your back, slowly, steadily, and when you don’t move away she pulls you into a light hug. She doesn’t say anything, knowing anything she says could be the wrong thing, could backfire, could come off wrong.

“Maybe I’m just… maybe I’m just broken,” you say, shaking, tears pricking at your eyes. You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything. You’ve ruined the night. You replay your words in your head, trying to think of how you could’ve said them better, then trying to think of how you could’ve avoided talking about it all together. You feel Elizabeth next to you, and you’re trying to tell what she’s thinking. What if she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore because you’re too much? Maybe she just wants you to get over it? Does she understand? Maybe she can’t understand...

“You’re not broken, Charlie,” she whispers soft but confident, “and you don’t deserve to be hurt.” When you don’t say anything back, she asks, “do you think you deserve to be hurt?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately without doubt, voice cracking, tears spilling down your cheeks. You realize then that anything she says now won’t change your mind. Your self-hatred lies so deep. Everything you’ve done feels like a failure. Giving the missing children life was a mistake. They became violent, angry souls, instead of passing peacefully. Now they have to live with regret and pain. You were being selfish - maybe you really did just want company in your hell. Giving them a second chance at life was wrong of you - they didn’t get a say in the matter. You couldn’t stop them from dying. You couldn’t stop the Toys’ souls from being killed either, and you couldn’t do anything when you were all taken away after the Bite.

She holds you tight now, squeezing you. Your head is buried in the crook of her neck and you’re trying not to cry or sniffle. She won’t get it - she’ll just say you did your best, but you didn’t - you never do your best. If you did, those things wouldn’t have happened.

“Charlie, you don’t deserve bad things. You didn’t deserve to be murdered. It wasn’t your fault,” she says, voice wavering but full of sincerity. “I want you to be happy, and I know it’s not easy and I can’t do anything to help, but… but I want to help! You mean the world to me.”

“You mean so much to me, too,” you whimper, pushing lightly away from her to wipe the tears from your eyes. Your heart swells. How can you even dare to have feelings for her when you’re like this? You can’t even take care of yourself, nevermind holding up a relationship. Not that she’d feel the same way anyways. You want to ask her out just so she can crush you, so you can have a reason to continue to dwell in your misery. Then she won’t care about you anymore and you can go back to being on your own, and no one has to clean up your messes.

After a minute she apologizes, “sorry, I don’t really know if any of what I’m saying is helping.”

“No, no! You’re fine. It helps. Well, it doesn’t _not_ help. You’re not making anything worse!” You nuzzle into her shoulder, and she keeps one arm loosely around you, the other playing with your hair, twirling the ends.

“That’s reassuring,” she sighs.

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm,” you mumble pitifully.

“No! I don’t know... I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t ask to be wrapped into all this. If it makes you feel better, just being near you helps. I don’t like to be alone when I feel like that.” This seems to perk her up.

“Can you text me if you’re feeling shitty? I don’t mind talking to you or distracting you if it can keep you from hurting yourself.” Shit, you’ve accidentally given her a means to help you and she’s readily taken it.

“That’s way too much to ask of you. Plus, I thought you said it’s not safe to message you,” you remind.

“Yeah, but this is different, it’s serious. You can always talk to me if it’s an emergency. And I’m not… unsafe. I’m not,” she says, sounding like she needs to convince herself.

You don’t think you’d be able to define “emergency” in your head. If you’re having trouble one night, it might be worse another, and then you’d have bothered her for nothing. Even if you were falling apart, you don’t think you could call her, fearing it would be an inconvenience.

“And if, like, cuddling helps, I’d be down for that? I dunno, I like to be next to you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable though!” she rushes the ending.

Your stomach flutters. “No, you’re fine! I’m not uncomfortable! I like- I like snuggling with you too.” You’re really happy to hear that. But she just thinks of you as a friend… you’re being gross getting close to her like this and saying things but thinking of them differently.

She responds by pressing her forehead to yours and placing a hand on your cheek. She’s _so_ close to you. You can feel her breath tickle your lips, which are so, so close to hers. You want to lean forward, to press your lips to hers, but you _can’t_. You can’t even imagine how she’d react, especially after everything you just told her. You could ask, and if she said no you could play it off as a joke. But it’s just a self indulged thought. There’s no way you can make it happen outside the realm of your mind. You just have to accept that.

“You’re really beautiful, Charlie,” she whispers slowly, leaving her words to hang in the air above you on strings. It takes you a minute to reel in what she said. You heard the sentence, but it’s like the words won’t connect with each other, like they can’t be placed next to each other to form a coherent thought. Is she just trying to make you feel better, trying to convince you not to hurt yourself? But…

“I… thank you,” you stammer eventually, “I’m nothing compared to you, though.” Her breath comes warm and rhythmic on your face. You want to listen to her heartbeat. She’s so close to you. But you’re just friends. Girls snuggle with each other all the time - they’re always close and cuddly with each other. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s just being herself. She’d do this with anyone. Wouldn’t she?

And then she tilts her head up ever so slowly and you feel a soft warmth press on your forehead. You try to process what she just did as she moves back down to look at you. She just kissed your forehead. You feel your face begin to flush, and you’re thankful it’s dark enough where she probably can’t tell. You feel yourself freeze up despite the glowing affection you feel. Your mind grasps for something, anything, to say, but you come up blank. Your throat is dry and your tongue is heavy. There’s no possible way she likes you like you like her. You were sad and she’s just trying to make you feel better in anyway she knows how. Platonic forehead kisses are given all the time between people. This isn’t different.

Elizabeth blinks, her unreadable expression changing to something else. She glances away, before breaking the silence, saying, “remember how you, me, Mike, and Sammy would all pile on the seesaw and try to break it?”

You laugh lightly, “yeah, we tried to see if we could get it to balance even though we were standing and jumping on it.”

“...T-posing on it,” she mumbles.

“No!” you raise your voice above the low level you were keeping the conversation at.

“Yes!” Elizabeth laughs.

“Remember Sammy and Mike would jump off the highest places they could find on the playground?”

“Uh-huh, and then Sammy broke his wrist and Mikey cried about it. He won’t admit it, but he did.”

You laugh, “poor Sammy. Jamie took advantage of that.”

“Jamie was kind of a little shit, huh?”

“Like you weren’t,” you tease.

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, he was a piece of work. I always fought him off Sammy. Dad wouldn’t let him pick on me because I’m gorl,” you giggle, “so when he’d pick on Sammy, I’d just insert myself into the fight and get Jamie in trouble.”

“Devious.”

“He deserved it! He bullied Sammy all the time, and Dad didn’t do much about it.”

“I remember watching you bite him before,” Elizabeth reminisces.

“Mm-hmm! He’d wrestle Sammy to the ground, so I’d jump on him and scratch him, and he’d pull my hair. And Sammy would cry and I would yell. And Jamie would shout that two on one wasn’t fair, even though he was older and bigger than us. Then dad would come in and peel us off each other and we’d get time out.”

“Sounds… sort of nasty,” Elizabeth comments.

“No one meant anything by it,” you try to choose your next words carefully. There’s a difference between you and your siblings scuffling, and Elizabeth’s abuse. “We were just doing dumb kid stuff, and we don’t do that anymore. Didn’t you and Michael ever get in fights like that?”

“Hmmm, sometimes! Dad would get really angry though. If Michael was winning, he-” she cuts off, pauses, and thinks. You get a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Michael wasn’t allowed to win,” she concludes, “and if dad wasn’t around, sometimes I’d tell on him later. I wish I didn’t.”

You think you can fill in the blanks. Much like you’re Henry’s favorite, Elizabeth is her dad’s favorite. Except William always made it obvious who his favorite kid was - Henry tried to be more subtle, even if it was still evident. Michael probably got… hurt after, for tussling with his sister, regardless of who started it.

“It’s okay, you… didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I didn’t know what would happen. Sometimes I just, got really angry at Mike for it, and wanted Dad to yell at him so I’d be the winner. I was petty.”

“I mean, that’s a normal enough response for a little kid. I ratted on Jamie all the time.”

“Yeah but, Dad didn’t just yell at Mike. I wanted Dad to be protective, but not… hurt him. But I should’ve known he would. I don’t know why I thought that wouldn’t happen. I only regretted it after it was too late.”

You nuzzle under her chin, “I’m sure Michael isn’t upset with you. You don’t do that anymore, do you?”

“No! Of course not!” she tenses.

“Then you’ve changed, and you’re trying, and you’re better than before,” you resolve.

She relaxes again, pondering. “Well, I still did it. I still did shitty things.”

“So has everyone. The only thing that matters is that you’re trying to change and trying to be better. And I know you are.”

She lets out a low laugh, “Charlie, you can’t know that.”

“I do! I know you’re too hard on yourself.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Okay. We’re both too hard on ourselves.”

She gives you a light squeeze, “yeah. Well, thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Did you still want to go on the monkey bars?” you ask. You don’t want to keep saying things that make Liz upset. And as much as you enjoy cuddling with her, laying in the slide is starting to make your back ache.

“Awww, I was enjoying snuggling with you,” she complains in a teasing tone. Your heart flutters.

“I mean, we can go on later! I was just wondering,” you say hastily.

She laughs and pushes herself up, “no, it’s okay! It’s getting stuffy in here anyways.”

“I don’t mind it,” you murmur.

Elizabeth stares at you for a long moment, studying you, then bends down and places a quick kiss on your forehead again. “You’re cute, Charlie. Come on, let’s go,” she says and grabs your hand, pulling you out of the slide before you can react.

The streetlights hit you as you slide out into the open, fresh air hitting you, and you blink, adjusting your eyes. Elizabeth stands on the ground at the end of the slide, facing you. She takes both your hands and pulls you up, and you almost stumble. You feel tingly, and you want Liz to do that again, but you don’t dare ask. Your face is flecked with pink and you smile as Elizabeth tugs you along towards the monkey bars. You reach them and she turns to you, smiling, before climbing up the short ladder, using it as a stepping stool to reach the top.

She hoast herself above them and crawls out into the middle. You watch and follow alongside her eagerly, before ducking under them and jumping up to reach the bars. You lift yourself up and press your feet to the bars, before hooking your legs on them. You let go with your hands and hang upside-down, brown hair dangling below you.

Elizabeth smiles down at you, “you having fun?”

“I could do this all day.”

“Bet?”

“I mean, I would, but that’s not necessarily how I want to spend tonight. What would the circumstances be, anyways? How much and for how long?”

Elizabeth kicks her legs as she speaks, “don’t have money to give you.”

“That’s what I thought. Not that I’d accept it, anyways.”

“I could give you something else.”

“Like what? You don’t have anything I want.”

She hums, tilts her head very slightly to the side, and grins at you, “I could give you a kiss on the cheek.”

You’re not sure if your cheeks are flushed due to hanging upside-down or not. You pull yourself up and slide through the bars, sitting with one foot dangling, and the other on the bars helping you balance. Elizabeth looks a bit disappointed that you joined her.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you laugh nervously, “don’t tease.”

Elizabeth shrugs casually, rolling her shoulders back, then stretches her arms above her head. “I wasn’t. Doesn’t matter though. Hey, do you remember that merry-go-round? I don’t see it anywhere.”

You’re distracted. You want to answer her question, but you also want to ask about- she doesn’t mean that, right? She can’t. She’s teasing you. But you can’t connect any other reason for why she’d say that. She doesn’t like you, does she? She’s just being friendly. You two have always been close.

“Yeah, I remember it,” you say, scanning the playground for it and picking at your fingers. It’s a nervous habit you have. You should honestly try to stop it, since you can easily rip at your nails till you bleed, but you don’t bother to try and shake it. “Wasn’t there that rumor that some kid died under it?”

“Yeah, I heard that. They said a boy crawled under there and other kids spun it around and he got sliced up. Some kids weren’t allowed near it because of that. Not sure if someone actually did die though. I don’t doubt someone got hurt though, that thing was wacky.”

You grow still. You can’t help but think of Freddy’s. You try not to think of your friend’s deaths, but can’t help it. Susie, Jeremy, Fritz, Gabriel, Cassidy. You couldn’t do anything to save them. Kids getting sliced up. Under a merry-go-round. In the back room. What difference does location make? Rumors - that kid’s death is just a rumor, but so are all of yours. If it was real, could you have saved him? And given him life in what, exactly? There’s no empty vessels around the park. How badly was he mutilated? Would he have had his limbs dismembered, like Fritz? His chest cut open, like Cassidy? His throat cut, like you?

The feeling of a hand on your knee startles you, and you nearly fall over. Your heart rate skyrockets and you grab a bar to balance yourself and look at Elizabeth, who wears a concerned expression. You try not to let your breathing come quick - try to control yourself.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you okay?” she asks, worried, “You just zoned pretty bad - were stone still. I didn’t mean to bring up something like that. I’m sorry.”

You swallow, “no, no, it’s okay. I brought up the murder thing. Sorry about that.”

She eyes you, studying your face. You grow nervous, unable to tell what she’s thinking, or what you did wrong. You’re just trying to focus on keeping your breathing even. Her hand remains on your knee and she scooches closer to you, though not touching. “There was no murder. You’re here now - not there. It’s alright, you’re safe.” She moves her hand off your knee to grab yours.

Shit, you did say murder, didn’t you? You didn’t notice that. It’s almost second nature to you to mention kids getting murdered. Accidents aren’t something you’ve run into much. It’s always murder. Kids, nightguards, bystanders. There’s no animatronic malfunction. You’ve all always either been programmed to kill, or intended to. Sometimes _who_ you’ve killed has been a mistake - like when Mangle bit that guard during the day - but it’s always deliberate. No glitches, no defects.

“Okay,” you say carefully, just trying to get your head to clear, “yeah, I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m okay,” you give her hand a squeeze. “I think my brother told me that anyways. He always told tall-tales.” You try not to think of the fact that others besides Jamie knew about that, and it wasn’t an isolated thing he made up.

Elizabeth seems to know this, and runs her hand up your arm, then back down, trying to comfort you. But instead of relief, you feel like white hot needles have poked into your arm, and you try not to wince. Shit, shit! You should be able to enjoy the contact, not flinch away because the cuts in your arm sting. You can’t let her know that hurt- you can’t let her know-

“Sometimes Jamie would chase Sammy around the playground and terrorize him,” you say, trying to say anything, to distract yourself.

“I remember! You’d try and defend Sammy, but Michael would side with Jamie. I was with you, and the three of us just ended up hiding when that happened. Mike was an asshole for supporting Jamie.”

“It’s okay, he didn’t mean to be mean to Sammy. He just… was swayed by the wrong crowd a lot.”

“Mmm, yeah, I can relate. And I always got mad at Sammy for hiding with us, because I wanted to play with you and not him,” Elizabeth laughs.

A smile tugs at your lips, “yeah, you were a bit possessive.”

“I just wanted to have girl time. No boys allowed,” she jokes, then pauses and says, “I guess that’s still relatable today.”

You laugh, “yeah, boys are icky.”

“You still like them though…? I forget what your stance was,” she asks, looking away and rolling her ankle.

“They’re fine,” you say nonchalantly, “I don’t have a preference for what gender. It doesn’t matter to me. You, uh, you’re still lesbian, right?”

“Yeah, I’m still gorls,” Elizabeth giggles, bringing her legs up onto the bars. She rests an elbow on her knee, and her face on her hand.

“Cool,” you say, a bit heartened. You’re not sure if you should be glad or not that you could potentially hook up with her - you don’t want to fall into false hopes. You know you’ve talked about this with her before, but weren’t sure if she changed her mind or not. Hell, you could’ve been falling for someone who you didn’t stand a chance with - not that you stand a chance with her anyways! She’s outgoing and you’re plain, she’s attractive and you’re not much for looks, she’s talented and you’re awkward.

“Why’d you sound so excited?” she teases. You tense up, immediately on defense. No, no- don’t get caught! Maybe it’d be better that way, but... you don’t want to get crushed.

“I didn’t sound excited! I just said ‘cool’.”

“But you looked relieved,” she continues, toying with you.

“I just wanted to make sure I remembered right!”

Elizabeth laughs. You love the way she looks when she’s happy. “Sure, Charlie. You’re so oblivious.”

“To what?” you question. You’re not oblivious! You’re probably the most perceptive animatronic at your pizzeria. You always know what’s going on, and you’re good at telling what the others are feeling or thinking based on how they move, how they act, what they say… but you admit you come up empty when you’re trying to read Liz.

“Nevermind,” she giggles, shaking her head. “Just… I’m having fun being here with you.”

“I am too.”

She purses her lips, like she’s getting a bit aggravated with you, though you’re not sure why. Regardless, she continues speaking, “we always sat up here and watched the playground, huh?”

“Yeah! I mean, when we weren’t doing spins and trying to come up with new games. We’d tried to get across the whole playground without touching the ground.”

She hums, “yeah, that was something we’d do often. Not sure why - doesn’t seem fun to repeat over and over again now.”

“Agreed. I guess it’s just a weird little kid thing - to want to repeat stuff. Sammy and I would watch the same VHS movies as we went to bed every night. Like, I don’t think I could watch _Bambi_ or _Fantasia_ every night again for a month,” you laugh.

“I just, remember playing on the monkey bars so much my hands would peel.”

“Oh God, yeah, that was the worst. My dad made me take a break from them so my hands would heal.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t want to go on by myself, so I’d make Mikey push me on the swings instead and he’d get annoyed with me.”

“Sammy and I would hide under the stairs and slides. We’d dig holes in the ground and get all dirty.”

“We’d dig up worms and have worm races.”

“Then we got sick.”

“Do you remember playing Doctor at your house?”

“Yes! We tore up my Toy Foxy doll. And I was going to make my dad fix it, but you liked it the way it was, and really wanted it, so I let you keep it.”

Elizabeth laughs, “yeah I remember! I still have it somewhere. You still carry around Theodore, don’t you?”

“Shut up! Only sometimes... at home. And Sammy carries around his Fredbear plush too,” you say, looking down. You don’t want to admit you still have childish habits.

She giggles, “it’s cute - no need to be embarrassed.”

“Whatever,” you huff. Okay, you definitely picked that speech pattern up from Liz.

She smiles at you before jumping down from the bars.

“Where you going?” you ask, sounding a bit more needy than you meant to.

“Nowhere! Just don’t want to sit up there - it hurts my ass.”

Of course. You jump down as well.

“Can you still do twirls and stuff on the bars?” you ask.

“Hmm? I dunno, probably. Not on those though - I’m too big.  We’d need like, actual gymnast bars. They used to have something like that. Did they get rid of them?”

“Maybe they’re somewhere else?” you say, scanning the playground. Instead of focusing on the equipment, you look out into the darkened sidewalks and paths. There’s so many shadows and trees - it’d be so easy for someone to sneak up on you. You inch a bit closer to Liz. She glances at you and seems to take note of that, but not your anxiety.

“They’re always right next to the monkey bars - it’d be stupid to put them somewhere else.”

“I’ve seen them alongside the paths before.”

“Hmm, yeah, but I don’t want to go looking for them.”

“I don’t either. But maybe a walk would be nice? If you want that,” you suggest. You’re actually getting tired of the playground - there’s not too much to do - but you definitely don’t want the night to end. How long is she planning on hanging out with you? It could be over anytime. You start getting nervous, thinking you might have to leave her so quickly.

To your relief, she says, “sure, that’d be nice. Let’s go.”

She takes your hand in hers yet again. Your fingers are intertwined, and she squeezes your hand, and you return the gesture. You begin walking in stride with each other, side by side. You love these moments with her, you want them to last forever. You smile faintly to yourself and duck your head a bit. You feel nervous and excited all at once. You find yourself thinking about her, despite her being right next to you.

She’s always so gentle with you, despite striking out at everything else, like you mean something different to her. She’s comfortable enough to share her secrets with you, and you return yours. She always makes you feel useful and special, like you’re not a complete failure - even if she’s wrong. She’s good at keeping away your destructive thoughts. You just feel… something more when you’re around her, like everything’s alright with the world. Like everything can be okay, as long as she’s in it. Your filled with warmth, just walking with her, just talking with her and being around her, and watching her be herself. You’re so incredibly proud of her when she improves and learns how to turn down her persona and just be who she really is. But right before you get to the barrier containing the playground, she stops and lets go of your hand.

“Okay. I can’t keep doing this, Charlie,” she sighs.

Her words bite you. Can’t keep doing what? What’s she doing? What did you do wrong? The closeness you just felt washes away and is replaced with fear. No, no- maybe she didn't mean any of what she said tonight, maybe she didn’t come here to just hang out with you! Maybe she’s pretending, and decided you’re not worth any of it.  

“I- what do you mean?” you ask, voice small. You’re trying not to tremble. You’re lucky enough that your voice didn’t crack. There’s no reason to shake! Just… calm down!

Elizabeth seems to realize you’ve grown uneasy, and her expression softens. She grabs both your hands in her own, keeping them down between the two of you. She rubs her thumb over yours.

“Charlie, I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“No, dumbass! I- I _like-like_ you.”

You blink. You feel like her words are bouncing off of you and not sticking. You can’t quite grasp the meaning, even though you heard them.

“Oh. Well, I like-like you too.”

She hesitates, tilting her head a bit before saying, “are you being ignorant, or- I mean- do you- ugh! I like you, like _girlfriends_ , like _dating_ \- I-”

“I know. I… I feel the same.” You have no idea how you’re keeping your voice level. A smile twitches on your lips, like you’re just beginning to understand what you’re saying.

“Are you serious?” she breathes out, “you’re not fucking with me?”

“Why would I be messing with you?”

“Charlie do you- do you wanna go out with me?” she asks, voice raising in excitement, face lighting up. Her grip tightens on your hands.

You laugh, “yes! God, yes! Oh my god,” you exclaim. You pull your hands closer to your body, meaning to cover your mouth, but forgetting they’re still attached to hers. You want to close off, to hide, but at the same time you want to jump and holler. “Oh my god-”

She draws closer to you, invading your personal bubble, holding your hands in front of her chest. She’s staring into your eyes, examining your beaming face, but not doing anything, like she’s unsure how to touch you. You’re not quite sure either. Do you pull her into a hug, stay at arm's length, or- go in for a kiss? You don’t know, you don’t know! But you find yourself pressing against her, looking up at her emerald eyes.

“I can’t- I can’t believe this is happening,” she says in disbelief, “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes? I just, can’t believe you actually like me back? I didn’t think you would.”

“I don’t believe it either. I didn’t think you’d like me, either.”

“Charlie, I was flirting with you the whole night,” she sighs, “and before we stopped seeing each other at the pizzeria.”

“No… no way! You were just being nice. You’re just being sweet.”

“No I’m not, dumbass! I want to fucking date you! Literally nothing I’ve said has been platonic.”

Your stomach twists. “How should I know! No one’s ever flirted with me before. Girls hang out with each other like this all the time! It can be platonic.”

Elizabeth laughs, “you really are naive.”

“I’m not,” you say, stomping your foot.

“And you’re really cute.”

You feel butterflies in your stomach. She’s said that to you so many times tonight, but only this time do you realize the meaning it carries. Her face draws closer to yours.

“You… you’re really pretty, Elizabeth,” you whisper. You notice her blush for the first time.

“Thank you,” she whispers back. Her face is hovering right in front of you, but, she doesn’t press forwards. Should you? What are her boundaries? Maybe you shouldn’t kiss yet - shouldn’t rush. But this is getting painfully awkward.

“C-can I kiss you?” You stammer. She blinks, and closes her eyes tightly for a brief second, like she’s mentally kicking herself, though you’re not quite sure why.

“Yes- yes!” she says, squeezing your hands so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst from your chest, and you’re trying not to shake from the excitement. You’re actually going to kiss, you’re- no, no, you can’t think about it, or you’ll freak out and hesitate longer, going to overthink everything-

So you close your eyes and push through the space separating your mouths till your lips touch. You kiss each other slowly and very softly, breaking through the barrier of your friendship into something more. You draw back a bit, hardly able to pull yourself away before you slowly peek open your eyes to look at her. She looks at you in the same moment, sharing your wonderment. Simultaneously, you go in for a second kiss, soft as the first. Butterflies fill your stomach and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, color filling your cheeks. When you pull back this time, Elizabeth cups her hand to your face, and glances you up and down, admiring you. You let out a shaky sigh.

“That was so… soft and warm,” she comments, awestruck.

You hum, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

She flushes deep red and asks quietly, “why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d be creeped out,” you whisper, trailing your hand down her arm, feeling her smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

“I wouldn’t have. I really like you.”

“Well, now I know that,” you laugh lightly.

“Have you… kissed someone before?” she asks sheepishly.

“No, who would I have kissed?” you chuckle.

“I don’t know, I just, wanted to know,” she mumbles.

“Have you kissed someone before?”

“No.”

“So, first time for both of us?”

“Yeah,” she says breathy, and you swear her eyes are glimmering.

You smile big at her, “I love you so much, Elizabeth. Like, maybe that carries a different meaning now, but, I just really, really care about you.” The way that makes her beam fills you with fondness for her. It’s not the first time you’ve told her you love her, but it’s the first time you’ve said it with this context.

“It’s okay! I know what you mean. It doesn’t matter either way. I love you too, Charlie,” she bends down to press her forehead to yours like she did earlier, “I love you so much. And, I said this before, but you mean the world to me, w-whether or not we’re dating, you mean everything to me.”

You try to hold down a squeal, you’re so happy, she makes you so happy! You nuzzle her nose with yours. “God, you’re so sweet, you’re so incredibly sweet, like strawberry ice cream.”

She lets out a soft sigh and it fills your senses, and you can only think of how cute she is. “I really want to kiss you again, but I don’t want to overstep, or rush anything,” she says.

“No, I get it! I feel the same. I don’t- I don’t want to rush anything, or do too much too soon, but _God, that was just so nice_ …” You want to snuggle with her again, to just be pressed up next to her. You don’t even have to do anything, you just want to lay with her and cuddle and listen to her heartbeat.

“Did- did you want to go on a walk around the park?” Elizabeth asks nervously.

“Yeah! Uh, I mean I did, I- I don’t know what I want to do now,” you stammer, “I just- want to be next to you. I mean, we can do that walking, so it’s no big deal, but really I just want to snuggle with you. Sorry if that doesn’t make sense.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re fine!” she says, playing with the ends of your hair, “I wish I could take you back to my house and we could cuddle in my room and watch a movie or something. I just… I don’t want to risk my dad catching you at our place.”

In a second you’re knocked out of your tranced state and snap upright, startling Liz.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you, just- your dad. Is he- is he going to be okay with this? Or, I know he’s not, but like- is he homophobic or anything? Am I putting you in danger if we go out? I don’t- I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“What he wants doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth almost snaps, but not at you - just pent up anger towards him. “I don’t give a shit what he wants.”

You bite your lip. “Is this going to be trouble for you? I- I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I can’t put you in danger, I- ”

“No, Charlie, Charlie, you’re fine,” she says and hugs you tightly, but not enough to hurt you. “It might be, a bit _risky_ , but we can handle it. My dad’s not homophobic, at least, he’s just, pissed at your family right now. I mean. At least I don’t think he is. Didn’t… didn’t our dad’s literally date in the past?”

You blush. How did you forget about that? You feel a bit awkward about dating the daughter of the man your dad was into at one point. It’s almost, like, fate repeating itself in a strange way. Not that your relationship with Elizabeth would be like your dad’s with William - they’re very different scenarios, and Elizabeth isn’t a monster like her father is.

“Yeah, they did - I forgot for a second.”

“I should ask you the same question. Your dad has every reason to hate me. Is _he_ going to be okay with this?” she asks.

“My dad doesn’t hate you!” you defend.

“I- I don’t know. It doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t; the point is, I’ve done a lot of unforgivable shit. He has every reason to hate me, and he’d be right doing so,” she says rigidly. She’s trying to act like it doesn’t matter to her, but you know she cares a lot about what Henry thinks of her.

“If he hated you it wouldn’t be right, because I don’t hate you, and I know everything you’ve done.”

“Maybe I’m manipulating you,” she laughs, not because it’s funny, but because she’s nervous - she’s _scared_. She’s so fearful of turning into her father.

“You’re _not_. Everything I’ve done is from my own free will, not because you tricked me into doing it,” you say sternly, trying to get across that this is a fact and not up for debate.

“I could- I could be manipulating you without knowing. And you wouldn’t know either,” her voice shakes, but does not break.

“You’re not,” you say softer, “I promise you’re not.”

“If- if it ever gets to that point, let me know, okay? I can’t let that happen. I don’t want to hurt you. _Please_ call me out if I do something wrong.”

“I will, I told you this before, I will, I promise. And I hate promises.”

“I know, I know. Sometimes I just need to hear it, I guess.”

You stare into her eyes as you speak, “then I’ll tell you. I’ll remind you that you’re a good person, no matter how many times it takes.”

She glances back and forth, trying to break away from your gaze. You’ve got her scared from your honestly, but you don’t care. She needs to hear it sometimes, just like how sometimes you need to hear that you’re not worthless.

Through her nervousness she whimpers, “thank you. You’re… you’re really too loving. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone kinder than you.”

“Elizabeth,” you say deadpanned, looking into her eyes, “I’m an apathetic bitch.”

She snorts, not expecting that, and begins laughing. You break your blank expression and laugh with her.

“Seriously though, my dad doesn't hate you, and I think he’d be fine with it. You’re always safe at my home. And if he’s not fine with it for whatever reason, then he can fuck off.”

“Okay,” she says still giggling a bit, “good to know.”

You lean forwards against her, pressing your face into her shoulder and holding her hands in your own. You mumble, “you could… come back to my house and we could watch a movie. Or binge a show, or something.”

Elizabeth hesitates, before squeezing your hand and replying, “I can’t.”

“Wouldn’t work that way either?” you ask softly and look up at her. She seems like she wants to agree with you, but doesn’t.

“I… don’t want my dad finding out I was at your place. And Michael expects me to be home tonight. He’ll worry if I’m not.”

You want to say that she could text him, you’re sure he won’t mind. Hell, he might even feel better if Elizabeth was at your house - somewhere where it’s safe. But you know she’s using him for an excuse, and the real issue is her dad.

“Alright. I just, don’t want the night to end. I know we’ll see each other soon, but I haven’t seen you in such a long time and I’ve missed you.”

This seems to be the first time Elizabeth notices the night can’t go on forever, and her eyes widen with the realization. “We don’t need to leave yet! I don’t want to leave you either, I mean. Not when… we just started dating. That feels weird to say? You’re okay with this, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m okay with this, I _want_ to date you, Elizabeth.”

She smiles big at that, eyes gleaming.

“There’s not much else to do at the playground,” you say, “do you want to… I don’t know, go somewhere? Out to grab food?” You’re not in the mood to eat, but you’ll do whatever to hang out with her longer. It’s not like eating matters anyways - you’ve always seen going out for food as more of an activity, you can always save what you have for later or give it to Sammy when you get home.

“Yeah! That sounds good,” she says, “do you want to take my car or yours?”

You shrug, “whichever. I parked over there,” you gesture to where you came from. “Where did you park?”

“Down the path near the tennis courts.”

“I don’t mind walking to your car, if you want to drive.”

She smiles and the two of you hold hands as you make your way down the path.

“Do you want to tell people we're dating?” you ask nervously, “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I wouldn’t mind telling people, but I don’t want word to get around back to your dad.” Keeping your relationship a secret doesn’t feel like a huge deal to you. You feel like even if things were different, you might end up needing to hide a relationship anyways. You have no idea who is and isn’t okay with gay couples, so this sort of thing almost feels natural to you, even if it’s messed up in the grand scheme of things.

She bites her lip, “I- I don’t know. I want to tell the Funtimes, but I know they can’t keep secrets. Maybe Ballora. I don’t know the Toys and Classics as well as you do, but the Classics seem trustworthy enough, if you want to let them know?”

You nod, “Cassidy and Fritz are good with secrets. Gabriel is too, but… Well, maybe I’ll let Cassidy and Fritz know. And you don’t mind if I tell my family?”

Elizabeth stiffens and her voice wavers, “I- are they going to be okay with that? I’m _really_ scared Henry doesn’t like me.”

You stop walking and face her, using your free hand to cup her face. “He doesn’t hate you, I promise. He’ll be okay with it,” you gently comfort. “And I tell Sammy everything, so… I don’t think he’d mind.”

“Did Sammy know you had a crush on me?”

You blush, “I- I think so? I didn’t tell anyone I liked you, but he made a few passing comments about it. I guess it was sort of obvious - at least to him. He won’t be surprised.”

“Will Jamie care?”

“I literally don’t give a shit what Jamie thinks. He also can’t keep his mouth shut either, so I’m not telling him. I’ll let my dad know to be careful about it. He won’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I just feel like… your dad might want you to date someone better,” Elizabeth speaks slowly, uncertain how to put her thoughts into words.

You’re taken aback. “What do you mean? I...” you’re not sure how to say what you’re thinking either. Date someone better? “I feel like this should be opposite? You- you’re very much- you’re better than I am!”

“What the fuck?” Elizabeth blinks.

“You’re so much more- more outgoing than I am, and you’re so much prettier and stronger too. You’ve got me beat in every field.”

“Charlie what the _hell_ are you talking about?” she says, blushing, “I- I’m not that great! And you’re so much kinder than me. I’m kind of a bitch. A-and you shouldn’t think that! You’re all those things too. I- I really appreciate the compliments though. Just- you should think more highly of yourself!”

You look away from her and shrug. You don’t really see the point of thinking better of yourself. Your self-image is driven into the ground already, and it’s not like what you said wasn’t true. “You’re not a bitch. You can be a bit mean sometimes, but never to me, and I think it’s admirable that you stand up for yourself. You’re not trying to be a jerk, you’re just doing what you think is right.”

“I’ve been mean to you before and I’ve been mean for the sake of hurting others - not doing what’s right. Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I hurt people.”

“So have I. You don’t give yourself credit where credit is due. You’re changing and you’re not the person you were before when you were helping your dad.”

She shudders a bit at the mention of her father, “I- I guess. I am really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have sided with him.”

“You didn’t know. Not the full story, anyways. He was manipulating you.”  

“I- maybe. I acted on my own accord, though.”

You frown. Again, you’ve come to an impasse. She thinks she’s the one who’s manipulative. Even though she doesn’t agree with her dad anymore, she can’t fully blame him for everything. You can’t change her mind about her father, much like she can’t change your mind about how you view yourself. You probably both need to work on that, but… you don’t want to sort out your problems. You don’t even know how. You’d bet she’s in the same position as you.

“Henry will be okay with it,” you say sternly, “and if you ever need a place to crash, my house is open. To Michael too. If things ever get bad, please come to us. We want to help you.” You end by standing on your tiptoes to reach and give her a peck on the cheek.

Elizabeth squeezes your hand and closes her eyes. You can’t tell if she’s angry or longing for something, and you get nervous that you’ve pressured her too much about her father.

“Okay,” she says, but you can’t tell if she’s being sincere or brushing it off. Why can’t you read her?

You continue walking until you reach her car, and she unlocks it and lets you both in.

“Is there anything else open this late?” you ask her, “I want to take you somewhere nice, but I don’t know how much later places will be open till.”

Elizabeth hums and pulls out her phone to check hours. While she does, you lean back in the passenger seat and look out the window into the empty parking lot. You feel so fuzzy inside from the night. Anxiety still creeps at you, and your worries are still there, but they’re at the back of your mind. You replay your kiss with Elizabeth in your head, and pink dusts your cheeks. You want to do that again. You’re so ridiculously happy that you’re dating her, but it feels so… unreal. You’ve been wanting to for such a long time now, you can’t believe that it’s actually happening, that she actually likes you. She really has been flirting with you though, hasn’t she? Rerunning everything that’s happened tonight, you realize you’ve been pretty in denial about her reciprocating your feelings. How was it on her end? Have you been obviously head over heels for her? Or have you been blank faced? You’re known for being expressionless, but you feel like you let that slip when you’re around her.

She starts listing off a few places that are still open, letting you know what options there are. You don’t really care where you go, and in all honesty, you want her to come to your place so you can watch a movie and snuggle together. You want to have a sleepover like you used to and be able to wake up with her at your side in the morning.

“So where do you wanna go?”

You bite your lip as you find yourself longing for the days when you two were kids, and didn’t have to deal with all the hardships your families created together. You whisper, “are you… sure you can’t sleepover?”

Confliction crosses her face and she looks back down at her phone, avoiding your gaze. She taps her fingers on the screen, fidgeting. “You really want me to be with you tonight?” she asks softly.

Shit, you didn’t want to come across as needy. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” you say downcast.

“I want to,” she says pained, “I want to stay with you tonight. Fuck, I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

You reach over and grab her hand in a tight grip.

“We’ll work something out,” she speaks quietly, looking you in the eyes. You can’t get over how pretty her eyes are. You don’t think you ever will. They’re bright and piercing, easily intimidating to onlookers. But right now, they’re only filled with fondness for you, and it makes you melt.

“We’ll make this work,” you say in your hushed voice, “I want to make this work more than anything else.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Please, yes.”

She bends down and presses her lips to yours, and it fills your heart with warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't too sure how to end it, so I just did. I also wrote most of this a few months ago, then came back to it, so I hope it flows alright! Any comments/questions/critiques are always appreciated! 
> 
> If I start something new my fics will be in third person from now on, however, I have a lot of older fics that are a WIP, so those will stay in second person. 
> 
> marionettedraws.tumblr.com is my art blog where I'll take requests/answer more questions about my AU!


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